


electrify

by badgerspride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Art College, F/F, Muggle AU, lesbian art babes au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerspride/pseuds/badgerspride
Summary: there was you and there was luna. {muggle au: ginny and luna are in art school when they meet.}
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. I.

_lovely banner by Lola @ tda._

I

The first day of art school, you see her. She looks ethereal with her long, waist length blonde hair and creamy skin. You don’t mean to stare at her, but everything about her screams, _“Look at me!”_

She has eyeshadow and stars around her eyes, and her outfit just looks _so_ artsy. She looks like a creative - an intellectual. Someone who _would_ go to art school. You’re in overalls and combat boots with your hair thrown up messily, and you feel lazy in comparison. You can’t keep your eyes off her and she notices and smiles, and that heart makes your heart leap into your throat.

For some reason, you feel guilty. You should text Harry, but you shove that away. Why are you feeling guilty? You don’t understand as you sit down in the open seat at the end of her table. She looks at you and smiles again and you feel your palms sweat. She leans closer and you see the depth of her blue eyes and she goes, “I’m Luna.”

“Ginny,” you say back.

You almost hold your hand out like a loser, but thankfully this Luna girl is easy going. She’s an aspiring photographer. She tells you that as you wait for the professor, who is late, and you tell her that your boyfriend encouraged you to take this course. You’re an aspiring journalist, you’re a rugby player thanks to six brothers. Luna is an only lonely - her words.

She gives you her number at the end of class and says, “We should get coffee sometime.”

You ignore the guilt as you put her number into her phone and text her.

It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship - that’s all you think when you text her as you leave for the bus.

**II**

“I’m an awful drawer,” you confess embarrassedly as she flips through your sketchbook. You’ve known her two weeks and you sit across from her at the cafe near the university. She has an herbal tea and you have a latte, you almost felt embarrassed needing the energy that badly. Luna always seems mellow. Her voice reminds you of a dream, like she’s trying to entrance you. If you think about it, Luna reminds you of a siren. She’s hooked you, and you’re so unaware of it entering your heart.

“I don’t think so,” Luna says sincerely. It has to be sincere. Luna isn’t the type to say things for the sake of peace..

Your heart warms and your cheeks are red as you fumble with your mug, mumbling an embarrassed, “Thank you.”

Luna is flipping through sketches - you’ve sketched everything: your parents weird home in Devon, a banner for your twin brothers joke kits, a tattoo idea for Charlie who has an obsession with dragons.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Luna asks, stopping on one of Harry. He was at the park there, and you knows it’s from a year ago. He didn’t even know you were sketching him and he looks so serene there. Your heart melts thinking about him in that park, looking out at the horizon in that deep thought that always makes you want to dive into them.

“It is,” you say with so much affection. “His name is Harry, and I’ve known him since I was ten.”

He is Ron’s best friend. His parents had died when he was a baby - a car accident he survived. His Mother’s family was horrible, so your mother adopted him. They fought for him, and you hadn’t meant to fall for him and neither him for you. You weave that into a conversation, and Luna reacts just right.

“He must be a good guy,” she says thoughtfully.

“He’s the best,” you say and the two of you look at one another, and then Luna flips the page.

**III**

Luna’s camera is snapping away as you run down a field of wild flowers, twirling and falling into the long grass, laughing. She’s rangled you into her photography project, not that you needed your arm twisted. You’ve spent so much time with Luna that Harry’s begun to tease you.

_“Should I be jealous?”_ _he joked as he poured tea, you almost spat your sip back into the cup._

_“What?! No!” you sputter wildly._

_He’d looked at you then, eyebrow raised, “Gin… I was kidding.”_

You lay in that field and Luna comes over, collapsing beside you. She grabs your hand as you both lay there. “I think I got some good shots,” she says and you grin, turning to her.

She’s so beautiful. It’s all you can think as you look at her. The sun casts a glow on her face and you’d normally compare yourself. You always do with Bill’s fiance, Fleur. Fleur is what people would call _angelic; she has porcelain skin - she has no freckles, no blemishes and you feel so jealous of her cerulean blue eyes_ and white blonde hair, how thin she is. But maybe she’s not jealous of Fleur, and that realization scares her.

“I want to sketch you,” you hear yourself say with sudden urgency.

Luna lets out a laugh and agrees with ease. You get up and go to your bag that you’d abandoned midrun and take out a charcoal pencil and your tattered sketchbook.

Luna makes a move to get up and you shake your head. “No, stay like that. It’s perfect,” you say in breathless wonder.

**IV**

“I’m so happy to meet you!” Luna says with enthusiasm as she hugs Harry the night you invite her over for dinner. Your flat is small, but you don’t feel insecure letting Luna in. She’s holding a bottle of Elderflower Wine and Harry pours the glasses. Tonight it’s you three and Ron and his girlfriend, Hermione. You love Hermione, but you’re nervous. Hermione was a person of reason and she has a feeling she’ll clash with Luna.

“Neville says if he can come, he’ll be late,” Harry says, continuing the conversation you were having before Luna came in. Luna takes off her boots and follows you. Her socks are blue with silver stars, they match her jumper.

“You mean I might not be able to meet the infamous Neville?” Luna asks with a sad pout as she takes her wine with a thankful smile.

“Infamous!” Harry laughs.

You smack him playfully. “He’s always flakey. It’s not his fault. His gran always needs him. She’s controlling.”

Luna nods as if she knows Augustus Longbottom, as if they’re old friends and she knows Neville would never purposely flake. You find yourself loving her for that.

“Neville might be infamous, but you’re famous,” Luna teases as she turns to Harry with a grin.

Harry waves her away and Luna bats away his modesty, “Gin _never_ shuts up about you! I must confess, I’m very jealous.”

“And I of you! You and my girlfriend text for hours, I was waiting for you to move in the past month,” he says with a laugh.

“He’s sprung our idea,” You say playfully.

“So no pantry bedroom for me?” Luna asks with wide eyes.

You shake your head. “I’m so sorry Luna, Harry’s very selfish with this.”

Harry is about to respond, but Ron and Hermione are paging the apartment and Harry goes to buzz them up.

Alone, you watch Luna look around. She’s eying the fridge that’s covered with silly notes and doodles, takeout menues and magnets, and the alphabet magnets spelling out: _‘Buy more milk!’_

“I like him,” Luna confesses. It sounds so sad, as if she wishes he wasn’t nice and good. You nod and you share in that sadness, but you know you should resent it.

You’ve loved Harry since you were ten. The moment you met him at King’s Cross you had fallen for him, but Luna is different. You wish that there was a way to live two lives. Sometimes you imagine the life where Harry and you don’t exist. You imagine that version of you kissing Luna and you’re so jealous of her, then you squash those thoughts down. Harry doesn’t deserve it!

“He’s a good guy,” you say, fiddling with a dish towel.

Luna looks at you, then she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay.”

You want to deny it. You want to tell her you don’t know what she means, but Ron’s entering the room with beer and he’s pulling you into a side hug and ruffles your red hair. “Ginny!” he croons enthusiastically, then he’s reaching a hand out to shake Luna’s. “‘M Ron, that’s my girlfriend Hermione,” he says, gesturing to a girl with bushy brown hair and straight teeth.

Hermione shakes Luna’s hand. When their hands drop, Luna looks at you for a moment before turning back, and you know she knows, even if you could deny it she sees right through you.

**V**

“Ginny, are you okay?” Luna has come up behind you, you’re elbow deep in soapy water and you’re trying to piece together your thoughts. You refuse to think of leaving Harry and you’d never ever cheat on him, so what are you contemplating? _It’s okay._ Okay to what? Like her? Have feelings? It doesn’t feel okay.

You think about how you might not be straight and Harry wouldn’t be mad about that. You doubt he’d bat an eye. He’s seen you at your lowest of lows, he’s seen you bare and exposed, he’s seen you vulnerable. So what if you’re what? Bi? She’d be bi…

“I…” you begin, but Luna tugs at your upper arm softly.

“I don’t want to confess things to you, Gin. And I don’t want you to torture yourself - I won’t come between you and Harry, I promise.”

Your mouth parts and you want to cry, you want to kiss her, you want the complications to vanish. Does she like Luna? Could she?

“You’re my friend,” Luna continues. “I am you’re friend. Okay?”

You find yourself nodding and she wipes away a tear you didn’t even realize had formed. Straightening, you move away a bit when Harry and Ron come in, laughing and carrying the caserole dish. Harry gives you a worried look and Luna rattles off an excuse.

Harry looks at you and you agree. You’re crying about art, not about a dilemma he’s not even aware he’s in. He is in the middle of a love triangle no one wanted, and you hate yourself for it.

Ron is oblivious as always, but you notice Hermione’s sharp eyes boring into you; she’s not blinded by love, she sees facts - everything is black and white, right and wrong. You swallow as she looks at you, moving past you to put away the leftovers in the fridge and remove the dessert. You know that Hermione is loyal to Harry first, they’re best friends - it’s nothing personal.

**VI**

Luna is the first to leave. She has her shift at _Page Turners_ , the bookstore down town early in the morning. She does storytime and you saw it once. She uses puppets and funny voices, the kids love her and it melted you into a puddle at the sight. Even the memory of it makes your heart race.

Harry and Ron turn on fifa and the sounds of shouting and trash talk flood the living room as Hermione looks you in the eye.

“Is there something going on between you and her?” It’s so blunt and you recoil instantly.

“No!”

“Ginny!”

You look down. “Nothings happened, Hermione. I promise - I _swear_!”

“Then do you… well, do you _want_ something to…” Hermione trails off uncomfortably, unsure. You’re the blunt one normally. You coached her through getting Ron, and once upon a time she gave you advice about Harry.

“I love Harry, Hermione, and I’d never do anything to ruin that.”

Hermione gives you a long look and then she sighs and nods, “Alright. Good!”

**VII**

You two don’t talk for weeks. You sit in the same seats, you never avoid one another, but life has shifted. Everyone notices the change, but only Neville mentions it that day when you go into work.

You’re watering a row of sunflowers, he’s repotting herbs and he says, “Are you and Luna in a fight?”

Your cheeks heat. “Not necessarily.”

Neville’s brow furrows and you sigh. “Nev… I can’t -“ you chew on your bottom lip, too ashamed to look at him. He was your friend first. He’s Harry and Ron’s age, but you were the one who became his friend when you were eleven and he was twelve. He was the one bullies loved to pickon, and after punching Draco Malfoy in the face you became best friends. Neville would understand, right? He wouldn’t judge - he’s _Neville_! His grandmother is weird, she wears furs with heads on them for Pete’s sake!

“If I tell you something,” you begin hesitantly. You set down the sprayer and look at him, fidgeting with the end of your braid. “Promise you wont judge me - please! Just… promise?”

“Gin, of course I wouldn’t!” Neville said softly, his eyes are so worried and he’s put his work down, no distractions; just him, you and the unbearably heavy truth.

“I - I think I like Luna.”

His face transforms in a second from confused to realization. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” you reply dully.

“Uh - what do you plan to do?”

“N-nothing! I mean it doesn’t mean _anything_! It’s a crush! People have crushes all the time, even in relationships.” And it was true. Harry had confessed having a crush on the cute TA in his teaching class and you’d laughed and given him an apple to _“Get on her good side, Potter. Spring for extra credit if you can,”_ you’d said with a wink - a wink! That’s how secure you both were! You teased one another about crushes and fantasies! He knew you inside and out, you knew him that way, too!

But this felt different, not because Luna’s a girl, but because it felt so real. It’d be so easy to fall for her.

Neville is looking at her skeptically. “Gin…”

You shake your head. “It’s a crush. A stupid crush! It could never happen,” you lie and he knows you’re lying.

“Does she like you?” he asks and you freeze.

_“It’s okay.”_

You should lie. You _know_ you should just lie, but then why are you talking about it? Why would you bring it up if you’re just going to lie, lie, lie!?

“Yes,” you whisper and he sucks in a breath, then lets it out in a low whistle.

“Wow.”

“Yeah…”

You’re both quiet then and the silence feels infinite before you break it.

“I love Harry.”

“I know you do, I don’t think it’s about that. You’ve been with him since you were fifteen.”

You swallow. He’s right and you know it, but Harry was the endgame - how many times had you both talked about graduating Uni and living in London while he taught and you wrote for the paper? How many times have you both discussed kids and growing old together - this wasn’t their plan. This wasn’t _her_ plan!

He’s hugging you because you’re heaving heavy sobs in the greenhouse of your job like an idiot. They’re ugly, loud and bottomless. You’re grieving something you haven’t even let go of, but he’s right and you wish you could exist in two planes. You don’t want to hurt either one, but it’s inevitable.

**VIII**

When you get home, you find him on the couch. He’s reading a book, highlighting passages here and there, and the sight breaks your heart. Your lip trembles and you force yourself to move and touch his arm. He goes to pull you into his side, he’s always been the cuddly type and gives you a confused look when you pull away and then puts down the book when he sees your expression.

“I need to talk to you,” you say and your voice sounds raw and small, you clear your throat but it doesn’t help. Grief and mourning shape it, and you take his large hands into yours and you observe them. Years of rugby and training have left them calloused and worn. He has the hands of a man who has had to work his way through life, and you know that his family has _nothing_ to do with this, but thinking of him on the platform in baggy clothes makes you want to pull him tight. You’ll confess your sins, you’ll beg and repent - you can change. You’ll drop the class, delete her number, you will stay because _he’s_ where you belong. Nothing’s changed. It’s been two months of Luna but nine years of them.

“Ginny?” he questions. He’s pleading with you, the poor bastard. He can’t stand the silence and the look on your face, as if something died and you’re bearing the bad news. He needs to know and you have to put him out of his misery, but it’s not easy. You know he might get mad, but the worst part is that you know he won’t hate you - he won’t resent this choice, or you. He will take it on the chin like a man, because he is. He’s such a good man, and you wish he wasn’t.

If he were a scummy, no good sleaze ball it’d be easier. She’d have packed the bag and told him the way out the door, but Ginny would never have a scummy, no good sleaze ball. She was too proud and impatient for the type.

“Harry, I… I’m sorry, it’s just - this isn’t easy.” You’re crying and you feel so dramatic. You hate yourself, and you wish you could punch yourself in the stupid face. This isn’t _East Enders_! This is real life, and she needed to grow up and cut the crap!

He rubs your back and you feel so disgusted with yourself when you let him. He reassures you softly, and you can see the man he’s going to be. He’s nineteen, you’re eighteen and you can see the school teacher he’s going to be and the father he’ll be to some other girl’s babies. You envy that girl, even though you know you shouldn’t. You’re ending it, and he has the right to date anything - you want him to! But the idea of those babies and that wedding and those nights in bed won’t be with you makes your heart sink.

“I’m - I have feelings for someone else,” you whisper and Harry freezes. You can’t look at him, but you know he’s waiting for you to. He’s still and his hands have dropped, and you can’t tell if it’s from shock or anger.

“W-What?” he finally chokes out. His voice is so stripped. It’s like he’s asking a question to a subject that’s mystified him, but it’s almost like he’s speaking outside of his body.

You squeeze your eyes shut and say, “I like someone else.”

“Who?” it’s not accusing. It’s so calm and serene, and you look up to see he’s looking at a spot on the wall, his eyes bright with tears, but none have fell yet. You can tell he’s thinking slowly, because he _knows_ this is different. This isn’t his TA or the cute guy at the coffee shop, this is serious. This is the end of the line. Neither of you saw it coming.

“Luna,” you whisper.

An empty, hollow sounding laugh escapes his lips despite himself. The sound is so involuntary and you didn’t even know they made laughs that noise. “Luna,” he repeats, and you know he’s thinking of the dinner party last week, all the jokes, how he and Ron teased about being on the lookout.

“I - I’m so sorry!” you say, your voice loud, getting swept up in a sob that overcame you. “I swear nothing happened, Harry! Nothing!”

He’s looking at you, and he’s not mad or sad, just so blindsided and you can tell that he’s going to cry once this is done. He’ll go into their room and cry, but he won’t do it here. He spent his whole life perfecting the stoicism he’s giving you. “But you like her?”

You hesitate for a moment, like an idiot, and then nod.

“Do you -“ and his voice cracks. “Do you love her?”

You want to say no. It’s been two months, it’s not love, but it’s so close to it. You think of how the coffee shop has become ‘our place’ in conversations, and you think of Luna playing with puppets as kids laugh and screech with joy, and you think of flower fields and sketching her because that’s all you’ve seem to do is sketch her. It wouldn’t take much to fall. You’re so close, and once you let go of Harry, you’ll be in for the free fall of your life.

“I could,” you confess and watch as Harry’s face crumbles. He puts his face in his hands for a moment and you fear that you miscalculated him. But he doesn’t cry, instead, he composes himself and says an, “Okay.”

He gets up and grabs the keys. “I… I need air. I need to think about this, Ginny,” he tells you and you nod. You understand, and you let him leave, but it takes everything in you to stay where you are. You want to chase him and repent, say you can change - you want to, but it wouldn’t be fair. Wanting isn’t the same as the ability to change. And you know that you haven’t got it in you to cut this out of you, that if you stayed it wouldn’t be out of love, but out of an unspoken pact you made with him the day you two kissed. Staying wouldn’t be a choice or an option, if it wasn’t serious, you’d never have said a word.

**IX**

When you see Luna, she’s mad. “I said I wouldn’t get between you two, Ginny.”

It hurts. This isn’t your fault, her fault or even Harry’s fault. Attraction was a cruel woman.

“Luna…” You’re mad yourself, but you’re stunned that this is the response. It makes you feel bitter, and you prickle that you’re here and you’re about to be rejected.

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Luna says, her voice chocked. 

“And I did?!” you said, your voice hard and sharp. “He was my fucking boyfriend! You think _I_ wanted to sit him down and tell him the girl I introduced him to less than a week ago is the person I want to be with? You think that’s what _I_ wanted to do, Luna?”

You’re both flushed and your eyes are angry and hard, but Luna’s soften. “No, that’s not what I’m saying… I didn’t want to ruin a happy couple.”

“I didn’t either,” you say.

Luna looks down, scuffing her boot along the laminent floor of the art room. “So… what now?”

You look up and say, cautiously, “I think we should take this slow.”

Luna looks up and then nods. “Yes, slow.”

You kiss her on the cheek and you watch it redden before taking her hand. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

**X**

Packing your bags is bitter sweet. Harry offers to leave, and you know he doesn’t want to be alone. He has a post up on Craig’s List about a roommate, and you feel sick thinking about it. In the end, you and Luna decide it’s best to be friends first, and friends can live in a flat. The one they could afford is a joke. It’s over priced for a one bedroom, but it’s London and the living room is big enough to convert half into a bedroom. 

You offer to take the fake bedroom, leaving her with the real one. It has french doors and the bathroom has a deep, old fashioned tub that Marie Antoinette would’ve been in as she said, _“Let them eat cake!”_ with a wave of her hand.

“There’s enough room to paint!” Luna delights when they move in. She sets up an easel and delights that they can put canvases near the TV set.

You put fresh sheets on your bed and lay down, watching her organize their painting nook.

“I think we should hang up your photographs,” you say and Luna grins.

“Only if you let me hang up your sketches.”

“Luna, you got yourself a deal.”


	2. II

**I**

The bed you got is soon abandoned months later. You have Charlie and Ron get it and they store it in your parents shed. It was a cheap attempt at formality, anyway.

You and Luna have your first kiss in a strange, but fitting, way.

You’re thrift store shopping and you find The Princess Diaries in a bin of VHS tapes. You squeal and excitedly show Luna, who then drives you down to take one of the many VHS players your dad has in the shed holding the bed. When you both watch, you quote lines, laugh, even cry because you think of Harry and what it was like the first time you kissed. Your foot popped, and you remember that feeling of euphoria.

Luna either pretends not to notice, or she’s deep in thought as she looks at the wall where the bed used to be and says, “I always wanted to try the paint ball balloons,” she says whistfully. You turn and look at the wall, then a Cheshire-like grin spreads across your face and you check your phone.

“Let’s do it then!” you say and grab her hand.

**II**

“I wonder what the logistics are of putting heavy balloons to the walls,” Luna muses, tapping her chin as she examines the options.

You look at them and pick up lots of double sided tape and a few packs of thumb tacks, “One of these has to work!” you say, going in search of plastic.

**III**

It’s a bloodbath to deal with. Paint gets everywhere - you’re overalls are a casualty of this fiasco. There’s a massive white spot on the left knee and your nose has a smear of blue. Luna’s hair has paint clinging to the blonde strands, and the table is a goner. When the balloons are filled, it’s clear there was a lot of movie magic involved, but the tacks get the job done.

You both go together. On the count of three your darts soar threw the air. You hit the mark, Luna’s off by a mile, but the balloon explodes red with a satisfying pop and you two shriek with joy and end up kissing each other hard.

You pull away in a bit of shock. You’ve wanted to kiss her, you just didn’t prepare for then. Luna’s flushed, but she’s grinning and you kiss her again and you both throw more darts until your hands are empty. Luna’s hit one to your six - all perfect shots, and you’re so proud of yourself that you’re basically gloating. There are more balloons, but you’ve both taken to kissing and you find yourself laying on the bed, kissing, smearing paint everywhere and neither of you find it in yourself to care.

**IV**

With Harry, you were reserved. It’s not a bad thing, you guys had the best times, but you and Luna are daring. You kissing on the couch in the art studio, you paint one another’s bodies, you draw her nude. There are things you and Harry never dreamt of doing, but you do them all now.

You don’t compare the two - never. Harry mattered, and so does Luna. They’re two different people. Harry was quiet, sharp like an arrow. Luna is soft, whimsical in the things she says and does. For you, Luna is a Wonderland. Things that used to be are not anymore, what was once up is now down, and what felt right is now something you can’t even remember. You’re entranced by this world.

You’re the first one to say, “I love you.” It’s over breakfast in a little corner bakery you two have begun to love. She’s eating a scone and sipping tea and the feeling bubbles up inside you, and you just hear it spill from your moth like stardust.

Luna is shocked. It wasn’t even nine am, she hadn’t even finished her first cup of tea, but she looks at you and her eyes are bright and you think she’s going to cry, and she grabs your hand and says it right back. That day, you go back to the flat and spend the entire day in bed. She takes polaroids of you, you sketch her, you watch movies and jump on the bed to 90s music, and you can’t imagine a life better than this.

**V**

Luna’s dad is a quirky man. He’s delighted you want to do journalism. He runs a paper you don’t respect very much, but sadly know a lot about. If Luna knows you’re a bullshit artist, she keeps it to herself. Xenophilius Lovegood adores his daughter, that much is obvious. He oohs and ahs at her photos, he hangs on her report of school and being a girlfriend, he piles on biscuits to your plate and keeps the tea going.

You knew Luna’s mother died in a terrible accident. She doesn’t give the details, you don’t ask, you just know that Luna found her and at that point, it was too late. She’d been nine, and she always gets misty eyed before singing her praises to her father.

When Xenophilius offers you a position, you take it because an opportunity has fallen into your lap, but you also want Luna happy. You love her so much, you love her father and their weird little home. It’s such a small world that they both lived in Devon, but in different villages. They went to different schools all their lives, it was by a mere stroke of luck they met.

“We must be soulmates,” Luna teases when they discover their roots. “We simply have a red string connecting us. It was our destiny to meet.”

You like the idea of that. It’s so romantic. You grin about it in the tub. You play with the tap and sip rosé. When Luna comes home and sees this, she grins and climbs in, even though she’s still in her jumper and tights. They play with the bubbles, piling it on each others’ heads and giving funny mohawks and beards.

“I love you,” you whisper when you lean close to her face and Luna leans in and kisses your nose. Life is perfect. It’s them.

**VI**

“Close your eyes, close your eyes!” you say frantically. You’ve grabbed her hand to run down the art wing and now you’re both standing outside the studio with a grin threatening to split your face in two.

“Alright, alright!” Luna says back in the same frantic tone, grinning at you as she puts her hands over her eyes. You wave a hand in her face and when nothing happens, you nod and lead her in.

The easel is covered by a velvet cloth discarded by the drama department and you put Luna in front of it perfectly in the middle and tell her to open her eyes.

“A cloth!” Luna says teasingly. “Not exactly a Van Gogh, but A for effort!”

“Oh shut up you!” You toss the cloth off and it reveals a field of flowers with tall, tall grass and just past it is a girl with ethereal blonde hair and the other with flaming red, they’re facing one another and you just know it’s a love story. No one would know it was in the beginning when love was brand new, but it’s the perfect glimpse. It doesn’t even seem like a place from reality.

Luna gasps, a hand covering her mouth and her blue eyes swim with tears. “Ginny,” she murmurs.

“It’s my final piece - I, it had to be special.”

Luna continues to stare at it in awe before looking at you. “I love you,” she croaks out and you laugh, kissing her.

“Once I get it back, I want to hang it next to your photos.”

Luna nods and you two go over to the couch, kissing, painting starbursts on each other’s skin, and when it’s done you cuddle into her with a smile and think about how you’re glad you’re in this reality with her - that this is an ‘ours’.

**Author’s Note:** The end. I want you to know I wrote all of this because I rewatched The Princess Diaries and the balloon scene felt so Luna, and suddenly I was like… but Luna and Ginny being sapphic art students. I’m dedicating this to Halle, she knows why. Long live the lesbians, peace out!


End file.
